The Assignment
by sprinklesoverglass
Summary: Post Hogwarts. Hermione is assigned to hook up with Draco to get Death Eater information. Draco is assinged toguess what?hook up with Hermione to get Order information. Drama. Fun. Woohoo! read. review. DMHG.
1. The Assignment

**OK, Soggy decided to make a new story. Yeah, it's only just starting, and there's not much conflict with the characters in this chapter. Don't worry, there will be!

* * *

"Hermione? Are you alright?" Harry asked, peering into her eyes.**

"Yeah, you look a bit...peaky," Ron said. Ginny nodded in agreement.

"Oh, I'm...just fine. Except, you know, the whole damn assignment!" Hermione said angrily. How could they ask her to do that?

"Yeah, you want to tell us about that? You've just been sulking about it all morning. We can sympathize with you if we don't know what wrong," Ginny said bluntly.

"You wanna know? OK, I'll tell you! Three years after graduating from Hogwarts, I thought I'd never have to see him again! They want me to...they want me to hook up with Malfoy! I told them he was hitting on me the other night, at that stupid night club we went to. Well, they think it would be a 'smart decision' to start a...relationship!...with Malfoy, and see if I can get any Death Eater information out of him! Can you believe it? And if I say no, that could cost us lives that I could have saved! I had to agree! So then, I called him on his Wizard Mobile. Which, he apparently had put his number in the other night. And I have to go out on a date. With Draco fucking Malfoy tonight."

Harry's eyes had widened to the size of saucers, and Ron had gone slightly green. Ginny, on the other hand, was giggling. "Well, he is handsome, you must admit. And, well, he'll pay, won't he? He is Mr. Moneybags. You could use this to your advantage!"

Hermione looked at her disgustedly. "Well, thanks Gin." In her mind she was saying, _'And the whores have spoken.'_

"Yep! I'm gonna make you beautiful. Malfoy likes his women beautiful."

* * *

Draco Malfoy walked into a large, deserted house. It was almost completely dark, only a few candles showing him the way to his masters room.

He reached the room and got on all fours, crawling towards his master, his head bowed, trying not to think of how he would rather be anywhere but where he was.

"Malfoy..." the Dark Lord spoke in a soft hiss. "I take it all has gone well?"

"Yes, Master. The Mudblood has agreed to go on a date with me tonight. I will try to milk all of the information out of her possible--"

"No...No...that won't work. Wooh her. Make her want you. Make her need you. If possible, get her to move into your manor...or marry you. That would be best, our long term plans. Make her trust you. Slowly...Gradually...change her beliefs. When we are done with her, we will dispose of her...But for now...make her completely yours. We need her information...now that Snape has left his role as a double agent...and Dumbledore is dead, that Potter has taken over...she is closest to him...we need her. You will be rewarded beyond your wildest imagination."

"Master--surely you don't expect me to...marry...a Mudblood?"

"Surely you don't think I would say something I didn't mean?"

"Y-yes, Lord," and with that, the blonde crawled back out of the room. He stormed into his house angrily. Marry, the Mudblood? The girl he hated hated, oh, his entire life?

_'How did I get sucked into this mess? Father is dead! I don't want to be a fucking Death Eater! Malfoys don't bow before someone else, do someone else's dirty work!'_

With a sigh, he walked into his room to start getting ready.

* * *

They met at the Leaky Cauldron.

Draco was pleasantly surprised. Granger had begun to look good. She looked even better than she had that night at the club. Her hair, though still very curly, had lost its frizz factor, and hung in shiny spirals, framing her face. Her side bangs only set the look off. She was wearing--albiet, natural shades of--makeup, and some lipgloss. She was wearing a plain, black, floaty, knee-lenth skirt and a pale yellow lace-and-satin tank top. She was wearing black ballet flats, and carried a small money pouch in which she held a few galleons and her Wizard Mobile.

Hermione was equally happy with her date's looks. His sleek blonde hair was shiny as ever, but loose. It came down the just under the nape of his neck, and hung in his eyes slightly. He was wearing black formal-dress trousers and a black working shirt with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, the top two buttons un-done. He held his black suit coat over his left arm.

He saw she was seated at the bar. He walked up and leaned against the bar next to her stool.

"Hermione," he said politely, smiling. She would never admit it, but chills went up her spine at the sound of her name on her lips. It was like a caress. She would scold herself later for that.

"Draco," she replied. He found it surprisingly hard to resist the--insane--urge to grab her around the neck and kiss her. He doubted that would help his pointless, annoying, humiliating cause.

"Shall we?" he asked, offering his arm. He could practically hear his mother's pleased sigh. She had taught him well.

Hermione placed her hand on the inner sideof his elbow, sliding off her chair. They walked out of the bar with all the grace and dignity of royalty. Anyone would have thought they were completely in love, not trying to crack each other for information that could save the wizarding world.

They got on surprisingly well. After being seated in an extremely fancy restaurant Hermione had only dreamed of eating in, they had spent a silent, akward moment just figuring out what to do. Draco had brought up a topic that had interested them both, and they, surprisingly, shared a view on it. And many other things, as they discovered, that night.

I won't bore you with the gory details of their conversation, I'll just let you know, by the time appetizers had arrived, they had both forgotten who, exactly, they were talking to, and what, exactly, they were trying to get from the other.

After dessert, they walked out of the restaurant, Hermione wearing Draco's suit coat around her shoulders, and his hand on the small of her back.

"Where to now?" Hermione asked breezily after stepping out of the revolving door.

"Well, we could go to the theatre..." Draco said, turning around. He put his hands on her waist and took a step toward her. She took a step back.

"Well, I don't know..." Hermione said, taking another two steps back, as he took two forward.

"We could go to a Quidditch game..." Draco said, advancing more.

"I don't think so," she said, stepping back again.

"Or we could go home," he said, stepping forward again. She stepped back. She found herself backed up against the wall of an alley.

He smirked and leaned forward, placing his lips on hers. Gently at first, until he realized she was returning his kiss. He deepened the kiss, letting his tongue slip into her mouth. He felt her arms wrap around his neck, grasping his hair, pulling him closer. He pressed himself against her, trapping her between himself and the wall.

Finally, he broke away.

"Home...home sounds good," Hermione gasped after catching her breath.

"Good, your place or mine?" he asked, smiling. She laughed, and he apparated them both to his house.


	2. The Next Morning

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* * *

Hermione blinked in the warm sunlight. She stretched out, enjoying the feel of her body rubbing against the silk sheets. She smiled and snuggled into the warm body next to her--

Wait. Silk? Warm body? Sunlight in her eyes? Hermione sat up abruptly and looked around. Rich mahogany armoir. Four poster, king sized bed with a black satin canopy. Lush green carpet. Expensive looking rich cream wallpaper. About three closets, and twice as many full length mirrors. This was most definitely not her room.

Cotton sheets. Alone, always. Window strategically placed by the asshole architect so she couldn't wake up to sunlight. Cheap fouton, cheap drawers, one closet. Hard, short carpet. Painted walls, done by her, Harry, Ron, and Ginny. Definitely not her room.

"My God, what are you doing up at this hour, woman? It's only...eight AM!" grumbled a voice next to her. She looked down and saw Draco Malfoy checking his watch. She was about to hit him over the head with a lamp, when it all came rushing back to her. The assignment. The date. The hands, the mouth, the chest, the legs. Oh, yeah. That's what happened.

She felt repulsed. Had she slept with him? And on the first date! And, I mean, this was Malfoy! She leaned back against the head rest, trying to remember.

No, no, they had definitely not had sex. But...almost. Awfully close. She felt him plant a kiss on her thigh before rolling out of bed.

"As long as I'm already awake..." he said. "I'm going to take a shower. Care to join me?" She smiled at him--well, she tried to--but shook her head.

"That's quite alright. I've got to be getting home." At this, Draco turned around and fell back on the bed. Propped up on his elbows, he stared into her eyes. Women usually like that. And, it worked. He could see her cheeks pinken, feel her try not to giggle.

"Why so soon? Have somewhere to be? Hot date? I feel like I've just been used for my spectacular body!" he joked, wiggling his eyebrows and sticking his tongue out at her. She laughed and pushed his head away. "C'mon, Hermione, at least stay for brekkie."

"Fine," she said. She waited for him to go into the room before getting out of bed. She was wearing a Tornados jersey and her panties. She pulled on a pair of sweats he had left on the floor and sat on the couch.

So, he was fun. Big deal. He still repulsed her. She would still rather be doing anything besides this. Even if he did make her laugh. But she hated him, and that was that. She would rather be laughing at him, than at something she said. She was doing this for the sake of wizard-kind, and would drop him the second she was allowed to. He was right, though. He did have a 'spectacular body'. She frowned. _'And I hate that spectacular body. He's an arrogant prat.'_ She nodded to herself, and left the room, trying to find her way to the kitchen.

-----------------------------------

Draco pulled his cashmere sweats off and stepped into the shower. He breathed deeply. Fucking mudblood. Had to go and be a good time, didn't she? Had to go and make him have fun, while he was supposed to be hating her. No--he did hate her. He was doing this so he didn't get murdered. So what, he asked her to stay for breakfast? That didn't mean anything. It just meant he wanted to get the job done right. She was hot, and was someone he could talk to. Since when did that ever matter to anyone? Fucking mudblood. He stepped out of the shower and pulled his pants back on, not bothering with a shirt. He performed a quick drying spell on his hair and went into his room. She wasn't there. He decided to go find her.

He figured she'd gone to the kitchen, since that's where womenfolk usually liked to go, so he set off towards there. She had changed so much since Hogwarts. She didn't seem to hate him, for one. He walked silently into the kitchen. Hermione's back was to him. She was wearing the Tornado's shirt he had lent to her last night and his favorite pair of sweats. Funnily enough, he didn't really care. She looked hot.

"I see you found your way into my closet?" Draco said, patting her butt. He leaned against the counter across from her.

"Actaully, Mr. Slob, you left them lying on your floor," she said, smiling. He watched as she cracked an egg into a bowl and looked around for a whisk.

"Are you making me breakfast? I'm touched, but honestly, that's what I have house-elves for," he said, standing up and taking the bowl from her. He dropped it in the sink. "Sit down."

Hermione sat down on a counter stool. "Actually, I was making us breakfast. There's a difference. C'mon, sit down with me."

Draco took the stool next to hers, after telling the house-elves to make breakfast, not unkindly. Hermione couldn't complain. She had given up on S.P.E.W. a long time ago.

"So, Draco, you say that that's why 'you' have house-elves. Do you live alone?" she asked. She decided to start small.

"Yeah, I do. Father died in Azkaban, and mother killed herself shortly after," Draco said, no hint of remorse. His parents hadn't been his favorite people.

"What about girls? Don't have any little..._mistresses_? Or friends?" Hermione pressed on.

"Nope. All my friends can afford their own places. And mistresses? Nah. Don't need 'em, don't want 'em. If I'm going to invite a girl to share my residence, I have to actually care about her. I wouldn't let her otherwise, because then I would have to cater to, and share my possessions with, someone who didn't matter to me," he said.

"I see..." the girl said, looking around. That had been rather blunt. He didn't care about her?Wait--who cared if he cared about her?

"I don't even go on second dates with girls like that. You see, I have a test. If they shag me on the first date, they must be doing it for other guys, too, right? So why bother? It's a good time, but nothing to bother with in the future," the blonde continued, nodding at the house-elf who had just brought their breakfast.

"Oh," Hermione said, for want of anything better to say.

"What about you? Do you live alone?" he asked, looking interested.

"Me? Oh. Yeah, yeah I do. See, Ron moved in with Lavender Brown. And Harry and Ginny moved in at the headq--" Hermione stopped abruptly. "So, yeah, I live alone."

Draco, noticing her slip, and seeing her reaction to it, decided not to press the information issue any further at the moment. "Sometime you're going to have to show me your house."

Hermione blushed slightly and looked down. Show Draco her house? Nothing could be more humiliating. After spending the night at his house, she didn't ever want to go back to her lumpy futon and scratchy carpet.

"Um...I don't think that would be a good idea..." she said, still not looking up.

"Aww, c'mon, it could be fun. I mean, I showed you my house, it's the least you could do," he said, not noticing her discomfort.

"Well...your house is...it's just...well, a lot more...luxurious than mine..." Hermione said, not looking up. Draco laughed.

"Really, how many houses do you see that are? I promise not to laugh," he argued.

"Um...fine. I guess, if you're ever in the neighboorhood, you could come on up."

"No, how about I pick you up there on our next date?" he said, tilting her chin up with his index finger.

"I thought you said you didn't go on second dates--"

"With girls I don't care about. So, are you free this evening? I've heard there's a really great showplaying tonightat the Theatre. About the Salem Witch Trials. It's a comedy," Draco said casually.

Hermione blushed. "Oh, yeah, I'm free."

"Good. I'll pick you up at six, we'll eat dinner first."

The girl stood up. "Well, I better go start getting ready, then, no?" She started to clear her plate when Draco grabbed her wrist.

"What did I say about house-elves?" he asked. "Formal dress, tonight. We're going to an _extremely_ nice restaurant, and the Theatre is a veryfancy place." Hermione nodded, and he pulled her down for a kiss.

"I'll have your clothes washed today. You can get them tonight, and you can go home in those. Consider them a gift, they _are_ my favorite pants."

Hermione smiled and kissed him again, before Apparating home. He was an asshole, alright. Charming her into thinking she was having a good time. Flirting. Being nice. Sharing his stuff. Asking her out again. Pretty much saying he cared about her. Basically, being an asshole! She tried to hate him and think of all the mean things he had done. All she could come up with was having house-elves, and he was actually rather decent to them. The nerve of him, not being a pret! She walked into her room.

"Aaah!" she yelled, seeing three bodies on her bed.

"Hermione!" Ron said, jumping up. Harry and Ginny followed suit.

"Where were you last night?" Harry asked his friend.

"I know where she was!" Ginny said. "And I'll bet she was enjoying herself."

"Shut up, Ginny!" Ron yelled at his sister.

"Staying out all night--" Harry started.

"Horribly irresponsible--" Ron began.

"How was it?--" Ginny asked.

"Didn't tell us where you were--"

"He could've killed you--"

"Is his house nice?--"

"Weren't answering your phone--"

"Didn't know what to do--"

"How big is his--"

"SHUT UP!" Hermione yelled at her friends. "Don't you think it would have looked suspicious if I had up and called you three to tell you I was alright? I didn't shag him, not that it would have been any of your business! I am very serious about this task! It could save lives!"

Ron and Harry looked down, while Ginny looked let down. "You didn't?" she whined, but stopped at the looks she got from the three of them.

"Are you--are you wearing his clothes?" Harry asked. Hermione blushed and looked down at her Tornados shirt and cashmere sweats.

"Get out."

---------------------------------

After her friends had left, Hermione lie down on her horribly uncomfortable futon--something she was acutely aware of after last night--and thought. Thought of what her friends would say if they knew she had enjoyed his presence. Thought of what Malfoy would say of her apartment. Though of what they would do the following night, what he meant by saying he cared about her. And all this thinking put her to one horrible conclusion: she didn't care. She wanted to go to the Theatre that night more than anything else she could be doing.

And it scared her.

---------------------------------

Draco lie down on one of the couches in one of the living rooms in one of the wings of his favorite out of all of his manors. The one he lived in. The one he had broughten her to. What was he doing, inviting her on another date? He wanted to call it specacular playacting, but honestly, that wasn't it. Damn her. Damn her new hair, her intelligence, her fashion sense, the things she could do with her hands and her mouth. The way her skin was really smooth. Damn her to hell!

Too bad he was already looking forward to that evening.

Too bad he was already looking for an exvuse to not have to go see his 'master' that day. He couldn't befuddle his mood with crackpot old psychos who wanted to dominate the world--and probably would. He didn't have time for that. He had to go back and lie in his bed--in, what would soon be, their bed.

Too bad (for her) he already had a plan to get her to move in with him.

Too bad.


	3. The Date, and Other Exciting Events

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Hermione couldn't stand it anymore at about noon. She had to do something! She opened her closet, surveying the contents. Pretty much old clothes. A few cute things, but nothing nice enough for the theater...she had worn her nicest clothes to dinner the night before. She went through her closet again and again, trying to make a nice combination, but couldn't come up with anything. About an hour and a half later, she slumped on the bed, blinking back tears. She would have to call Malfoy and tell him she couldn't make it.

_'Because I don't have nice enough clothes? That's stupid. I can't tell him that. Maybe I'll say that--'_

**Rrrrrrrring!**

Hermione sat up quickly and groped for the phone.

"Hello?" she practically shouted into it when she picked it up.

"Hey!" Ginny giggled. "Wanna do something tonight?"

"What? Oh, no. Sorry, I can't. I have a--date--thing with Malfoy."

"Another one! Wow! He must like you."

"Actually, on second thought, I might be able to. I don't...I don't have anything to wear, so I'm going to cancel..." Hermione muttered, turning red.

"What? Don't you dare! If you cancel that date for something as simple as--oh, you're pathetic! You need training, woman! I'll be over in a minute!"

A loud **crack** later, an incredulous looking redhead was in her living room.

"We're going shopping."

* * *

"So, where are you guys going, anyway?" Ginny asked airily an hour later. They had had lunch before shopping. They were walking through the streets of Muggle London, where some of the best shopping was.

"Um, The Theatre, I believe. We're going to go see a comedy on the Salem Witch Trials," Hermione said, stifling a giggle.

"Ooh, how fancy! Why didn't you tell me? Those tickets are awfully pricey." Ginny said. She steered Hermione around and led her in a different direction.

They stopped in front of a large shop with a glass revolving door. Ginny smiled and led Hermione inside.

* * *

An hour later, Hermione was still trying on clothes, and she even Ginny was getting bored.

Hermione stepped out of the dressing room for the umpteenth time in a beautiful dress, even if it was a bit on the revealing side. It was red. with little white rhinestones sewn to the hems. It was sleeveless and went down to her knees.

"Wow, Hermione, you look great!" Ginny said of the dress, nodding appreciatively.

"I don't know...it's a bit...skimpy...?" Hermione said nervously, fidgeting with the hem of the dress.

"Hermione! You've said that about the last ten dresses! What is too skimpy about it? It's lovely, and it looks beautiful on you!" Ginny said, exasperated.

"It's just...not right...?" Hermione mumbled, and walked back into the dressing room. Ginny rolled her eyes. It was just like Hermione to not let loose and have a little fun. Although she was known to take a few too many firewhiskey shots.

Hermione walked out a few minutes later in a black dress that went all the way to the floor. It had long sleeves, and wasn't as tight as some of the things Ginny had picked out

"I like this one alright..." Hermione said, looking in the mirror.

"You do? You have issues. That is the most affected dress I have ever seen. You look like a nun! Go change!" Ginny said incredulously.

Hermione scurried back into the dressing room. She sat in the chair, looking around at all of the beautiful dresses around her. One caught her eye. She quickly put it on and went out to Ginny.

There were no words. Hermione just smiled and Ginny just nodded.

* * *

"Well, my work is done!" Ginny squealed. "And I must say, I have never been prouder than this moment!"

"More proud." She couldn't resist.

"Yes, you're welcome. It's good to know my work is appreciated," Ginny said, mock-hurt.

"Well, I haven't even seen it--" Hermione glanced in the mirror and stopped.

She looked beautiful. Ginny had done her makeup in shades of brown and pink, with mahogany eyeliner and mascara to top it off. She had put a little rouge on her cheeks and had glossed her lips a shiny natural pinkish.

Her hair was done up in an elegant updo, reminiscent of her style at the Yule Ball. A few random curls were falling out of the bun and around her face. Ginny had put some subtle highlights in, and her sideswept bangs really framed her eyes well.

Wait.

"When did I get these?" Hermione wondered aloud.

"Oh, I cut them when your eyes were closed," Ginny said, giggling.

"You better be happy they turned out alright!" Hermione said angrily. "What if they looked bad, and with the date I'm about to go on, and, oh--"

"It's alright! They look beautiful. And why do you care, anyway? It's just Malfoy."

"Err--right, I know. But I want to get my assignment done properly!" Hermione said, flustered.

"Mm hm, sure. Now get over here and put your dress on so I can leave."

"Why do you need to be here for that?" Hermione asked.

"So I can take a picture for my portfolio, duh! Didn't I tell you? I'm applying to the Wizard Academy of Cosmotolegy!" Ginny said excitedly.

"Gin, that's great!" Hermione said, hugging her friend.

"Yeah, I know. Now put your dress on!

* * *

Draco buttoned his cuff and smoothed his hair, looking at the clock over the fireplace in his bedroom intently.

5:56

He smoothed his shirt, glancing around his room for anything he might have forgotten.

5:57

He checked his fly. He checked his shoes. He checked his wallet.

5:58

He lifted the lid off of the Flu powder jar, very slowly. He looked inside of it.

5:59

He grabbed a handful of the shimmery powder.

6:00

He threw the powder in, saying Hermione's address. He stepped into the fire practicedly, closing his eyes and tucking in his elbows.

A minute later, he stopped spinning. He stepped out into a dingy apartment with old, tatty furniture.

He knew Hermione made better pay than this. Why didn't she buy herself new furniture?

What he didn't know was that she gave half of every paycheck to the Order of the Pheonix.

"Hermione, love?" he called out tentatively, stepping lightly across the room and knocking on what he assumed was her bedroom door.

"Draco?" Hermione yelled back. "Are you here already?"

"Well, it is six."

"Oh! I'm sorry! I'll be out in a minute!" she said, embarassed.

"No need to be sorry. I'll just have a seat on your...couch..." he said.

A few minutes later, Hermione stepped out of her room. Draco was speechless.

Her hair was in an updo like at the Yule Ball. She was wearing natural looking makeup that looked lovely. But her dress--well, that was the best part. She was wearing a gauzy, violet dress. It had a V-shaped, off the shoulder sleeve, and it came down to her knees. It gathered around the waist, so the bottom half was flowy. There were little black roses along the hem of her dress, a iny white rhinestone in the center of each, and the bodice was covered in a thin black lace. She was wearing black round-toed pumps, and wore a cream colored shall over her shoulders.

"Wow...you look beautiful..." he said softly, running a finger over her cheek. He stooped and kissed her lightly on the lips. "New bangs?"

Hermione smiled warmly and stifled a girly giggle. "Thank you, and yes."

"So, are you showing me your apartment?" he asked, stepping towards her bedroom.

She tugged on his hand. "You don't want to see it. Let's go!"

"Yes, actually, I do want to see it," he said, spinning her toward him. He wrapped an arm around her waist and led her into her own room. He looked at the cheap furniture and threadbare comforter. The peeling walls and one tiny window.

With a **crack**, he apparated them both to the restaurant.

* * *

"Woah!" Hermione said, staggering into him. "I wasn't ready for that."

He wrapped an arm around her waist, steadying her. "I'm sorry. Are you alright?"

"What? Oh. Yeah, I'm fine," she said, trying to ignore the intoxicating scent of his cologne.

They were seated almost immediately.

"So, about your apartment..." Draco began. Hermione immediately blushed and looked away.

"I know, I know, it's not very nice..." she said apologetically.

"Are you safe there?" he asked.

"Well, pretty safe, I think. There have been a few break-ins, but I wasn't there at any of those times, luckily..."

"Hermione...what if you had been there? What do you think would have happened?" he said.

"I dunno...I don't really think about it..." Hermione lied.

"Why don't you get a better apartment? I know that you make more money than that."

"Well, I donate most of my money to charity..." Hermione said.

"Oh. I don't even feel safe just thinking about you staying in that apartment," Draco said.

"Well, I'll be alright. Nothing's happened to me yet," she said.

"Do you want me to stay there with you?" the blonde asked. "It would make me feel better."

"Well, what are the chances that it's going to happen on the one night that you come over?"

"True. I just--well--there is one thing, but...well, it might seem a bit forward, but..." Draco started.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Well, you could move in with me. Just until you find a better apartment, or something. You could stay as long as you like, though."

"Draco!...are you joking?" she asked.

"No, I'm not. Why would I be?"

"I don't know..." the brunetter replied.

"OK, at least let me stay over tonight? And just know the offer still stands?"

"Yeah, OK," Hermione said, smiling at him.

"Good."

* * *

Laughing and joking, the couple walked into Hermione's apartment.

"That was a wonderful show, Draco. Thank you," she said.

"My pleasure. I'm just going to pop in at my house, straighten a few things up, grab some clothes, and be right back, ok?" Draco asked. Hermione nodded. He kissed her forhead and apparated home.

Hermione went into her room and started trying to make things nicer. She put a fluffing spell on her mattress and pillows, quickly washed her comforter, and put all her dirty clothes away. She changed into the sweats she had stolen from him and a black wifebeater tank top.

She was about to go sit on the couch when an strong, hairy, tattooed arm wrapped around her neck and face, and a hand started tugging at her pants.

* * *

Draco paced in his room, staring at his clock. He had been gone a quarter of an hour, that had to be enough for his guy to get in, right?

* * *

Hermione tried to scream as the man pushed her roughly onto her bed on all fours. He bent over her, pulling her pants down. She kicked back, but it didn't seem to have any effect.

She could feel the guy going for his zipper and tried to scramble away. She got away from him for a minute, but he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her back to him, smashing her butt against his groin. He went for his zipper again, and this time, he got it.

* * *

_'Screw it,'_ Draco decided. _'I'm going.'_

He quickly apparated into Hermione's apartment.

What he saw horrified him. A man--his man--was bent over Hermione, and in the act of undoing his zipper. She was crying, and her--well, his--pants were around her ankles. He had no idea why this made him so mad, seeing a Mudblood get what she deserved.

But it did. Madder than anything had made him in his entire life. And that included Potter.

"What the fuck!" Draco yelled, grabbing the guy around his neck and pulling him off Hermione. Luckily, in time. He punched the guy's face in once, twice, thrice before dragging him outside and slamming him against the wall.

"What the fuck, man!" Draco said to the man. "What are you fucking doing? Did I tell you to rape her? Did I? No! I specifically told you not to hurt her! You were supposed to break in and scare her! And don't you dare bullshit me and tell me you weren't going to rape her, you asshole. Get the fuck outta my sight. I oughtta kill you, asshole. But I'm feeling nice. So you have three seconds."

The guy ran as fast as he could down the hall, not looking back.

Draco stepped back into the apartment, hurrying over to Hermione's room. She was lying on her bed, crying. She had pulled her pants up and crawled further up the bed.

He scooped her up and apparated them both to his manor.


	4. Stage 1: Accomplished

Yea, yea, I'm finally back, yea! Thanks, y'all, for reading!

Oh, and check out my new story:

Guess Who, Anyone?  
Author: Peruvian Powder of DOOM!  
Me and my (ex-step-)sister are co-writing it, and it's really cool!

* * *

Draco set Hermione down on his bed gently. Her crying had softened, and she was mostly just sniffling now. He climbed up beside her. She couldn't decide whether to crouch away or cling to him. She stayed put.

"Are you OK?" he whispered. She nodded softly. "Did he hurt you?"

She shook her head. He pulled her towards him and she buried her face into his neck, calming down. He held her like that until she fell asleep. He pulled the covers over her, kicked of his shirt and shoes, and laid back beside her, staring at her. Her hair was mussed, and her light makeup had smeared all over her face. Her shirt was torn, and she breathed shollow, ragged breaths. He wiped the makeup and tears off her face. He put her arm around her waist, to reassure himself that asshole wasn't going to come back and take her. It was a silly fear, completely irrational, and he had no idea why he felt so protective of her, but he did. He fell into a light slumber, waking up every time she moved, even slightly, to make sure she was alright.

The next morning he woke up at about nine. He got up softly and walked over to his armoir, pulling out a pair of sweats and a clean shirt for her. He saw her stirring and kissed her lips lightly. She smiled ever so slightly and blinked. She looked up at him as if he were her hero. His chest did a little flippy thingy that he ignored as he handed her the clothes.

"Thank you," she said quietly. He nodded. She asked, "I should go home and clean up, shouldn't I?"

He shook his head and sat down next to her. He took her hand.

"I don't want you to go back," he said firmly.

"I have to. It's my house. I can't well never go back to my house."

"I'm not going to let you go back there. It's dangerous. If that oaf could get in, anyone could."

"You're not going to let me?" she asked disbelievingly.

"That's right. We've got two options. One, you let me buy you a new place in a nice neighborhood. Two, you move in here with me," he said calmly.

"Are you joking?" she asked, narrowing her eyes skeptically.

"No, of course I'm not joking. You think I'd let you go back to that place after someone almost raped you there last night? I would really prefer you came to live with me, but if you really detest the idea that much..."

She was stunned. He was asking her to live with him? Seriously?

Suddenly she threw her arms around his neck, laughing.

"Are you seriously seriously serious?" she asked. He nodded.

"I take it your moving in with me?" he asked.

She nodded, smiling hard. He pushed her back onto his--their--pillows gently, kissing her tenderly.

She gave herself to him. Completely. _Finally_.

* * *

A few hours later, they emerged from bed.

"You really don't fail to please, do you?" she asked, checking her watch. "Three hours, minus a half an hour that you--and I--and--well, that's two and a half hours. I'm impressed, Mr. Malfoy."

He smirked and pulled her back down onto the bed. "I'm absolutely, one hundred percent certain when I say that you didn't know what true loving was until now. Am I right, or am I right?"

She giggled. "You're most definitely right, and you're most definitely full of yourself!" She bounced off the bed and ran barefooted across the room to the door.

He laughed, got up, and followed her, giving her a tour of her new home.


	5. The Reaction

Good Lord, I friggin' feel sick after reading that last one. I'm SO fuckin' sorry for all that fluff! Damn.

* * *

Draco had a group of house-elves move all of the things Hermione insisted on keeping into his house later that very day.

They spent the rest of the weekend letting every surface in the house get to know Hermione's backside.

* * *

"Morning, love," Draco said, kissing Hermione's head.

It was Monday morning, and they were finally re-entering the real world. They hadn't left the house for anything all weekend--not even food.

"Draco Malfoy, I cannot believe you got up at 7 AM. I am_so_ proud of you!" Hermione joked from the marble island in the kitchen. She sipped her coffee and turned to the second page of the Daily Prophet.

"Yeah, well, you woke me up with all your frantic mutterings," he grumbled, pouring himself a black coffee and sitting down next to her, reading the paper over her shoulder.

"I got up a half-hour late today, and I have to walk all the way off the property to Apparate!" she said. "Then I remembered that I'd already told Kingsley I'd be late this morning because I'd had an--err--meeting this morning."

"Aww, that means I had to wake up this early, and for nothing?" he asked, mock-pouting.

"Well, if you get lucky, maybe I'll accidentally leave the bathroom door unlocked while I'm showering," she grinned.

"Why'd you have to tell your boss that you had a meeting? Shouldn't he know already?" Draco asked skeptically.

Hermione blushed and frantically racked her brain for an excuse. "Oh...well, um...it's not really a meeting, I made it up. I'm really meeting Harry and Ron and Ginny for lunch."

"Bugger, you're still friends with Potty and the Weasels?" Draco scowled.

"Yes, I am. Actually, I'm going to invite them over one night this week. Should I lock up your wand ahead of time, or are you going to be mature?" she asked, kissing his shoulder.

"No, I won't hex them. But you can't make me be nice to them!" he cried childishly.

Hermione smirked. "You want to act like a child? I can treat you like a child, then..."

Draco's face changed to a solemn smile immediately. "Me, childish? Never. Potty--er, Potter and Weasley? Invite them over, I don't mind one little bit!"

Hermione laughed, putting down her empty mug and standing up. She stretched, causing her shirt to lift up over her belly button and smiled slowly. "Well, I'm going to go shower and get ready to meet with my friends. I hope I can figure out how the door lock works..."

Draco followed her into the bathroom, grinning like a moron.

* * *

Hermione walked into the restaurant, straight over to her and her friends' normal table. They ate here every Monday, sometimes before work, sometimes after, sometimes at lunch break, but they always did. She pulled her emerald turtleneck--Draco had insisted on the color--up nervously. Draco had made her about a quarter of an hour late, which would have been normal for anyone but her. She sat down, avoiding the incredulous stares.

No one said anything for a minute. Then--

"You had sex!"

Hermione stared at Ginny increduously.

"Oh. My. Gawd. You had sex with Draco Malfoy!" Ginny exclaimed.

Hermione scowled at her, blushing seven shades of red. "How would you know?" she said, looking at the table.

"Well, first of all, that hickey that your turtleneck is trying--and failing--to cover. And second, I just know. I've had enough sex to know when a girl's been thoroughly fucked. Your whole demeanor's changed since last time I saw you, right down to the way you walk. It's about time, I'd say."

Ron and Harry stared at her, both growing red in the face.

"No way!" Harry exclaimed.

"Tell me it's not true. There's no way it's true," Ron said disbelievingly.

Hermione blushed more deeply and looked down. "I've been--um--meaning to...umm...tell you guys. Uh, I, uh, moved in with him. Someone...uh, tried to rape me at my place, and, uh, he asked me to stay with him until I could get a better place. Will you, um, come over on Thursday for dinner? Drac--Malfoy's promised to act decent..."

Ginny shrugged. "I'm in. But we seriously need to talk. Like, talk size and skill and--"

Harry cut her off. "Whatever. It's your decision. I'm open on Thursday. But I'm really concerned that you're forgetting that this is just a mission--one that will most likely end in him getting turned over to Dementors when we're done with him."

Hermione felt a horrible jolt in her stomach at the thought. Draco...to the dementors? She had completely forgotten that this was a mission, to be honest. But, as if she would ever tell them that.

"Of course I haven't forgotten. I'm just trying to do this the right way!" she said fiercely, though she was torn up inside about he new realization.

"You're fucking joking me. If you both agree, then I'll be the bad guy!" Ron said angrily, looking at Ginny and Harry. He loved Hermione as a sister and didn't want this for her, but he knew he was outnumbered. So he grumbled, "Fine. Whatever."

Hermione forced a smile. "Well, I have to go now. I'm late for work." Ginny swallowed a huge chunk of her muffin and stood up, too.

"Let me walk you to work. We have a lot to talk about."

* * *

Hermione staggered up the quarter-mile long front walk to the Manor exhaustedly.

She walked into the house and headed straight for the bedroom, dropping her stuff on the settee and going into the bathroom. She filled up a steaming hot bubble bath and pulled off her clothes, settling in. She slid down so she was up to her chin in water and letting a few rare tears slip down her face. She felt so horrible about what she was doing to Draco, he really didn't deserve it, and he hadn't seemed at all evil or suspicious since she'd started dating him.

He was a bit of a nympho, though.

She felt strong hands massagine her shoulders and neck.

"You seem a bit tense. Let me fix that for you," Draco grinned, pulling off his shirt and dress pants. "Mind if I join you?"

Hermione laughed. "Speak of the Dark Lord. I was just thinking about you and your nymphomaniacal tendencies."

"Don't talk about him," said Draco sharply. They stared at each other for a moment before deciding to ignore the slip-up, and Draco slipped into the bath.

Hermione smiled shakily. "I don't mean to inflate your head or anything, but seeing you standing there in the steam just reminds me of how well-endowed you are, in both the size and skill departments." She leaned forward on her knees and kissed him lightly.

"God, and you call me a nympho," he grinned, pulling her on top of him.

* * *

A few hours later, Draco lay in bed, listening to Hermione's light snores, thinking about her mention of the Dark Lord.

That had just reminded him of the demise he was leading her to, the horrible, painful, tortured end that she in no way deserved.

It didn't make him feel good, but what could he do?


End file.
